


What's a Little Matrimony Between Friends?

by ProfessionalPorcupine



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Fake Husband, Canon Rewrite, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Marriage, Green Card Marriage, Horny Felicity, Horny Oliver, Oliver Queen Cooks, One honest conversation could resolve this!, shower masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-03-29 10:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessionalPorcupine/pseuds/ProfessionalPorcupine
Summary: In the months after Slade's siege on Starling City, Oliver and Felicity have become closer than ever. Oliver is ready to admit his feelings for Felicity, but then she learns that her work visa is invalid and she must return home to Canada. Though he knows it'll complicate everything, Oliver does the only thing he can think of: he proposes.*This story takes place between the end of season 2 and the beginning of season 3. One major divergence from canon is that Felicity is from Canada's Northwest Territories instead of Vegas. Also, instead of going on their ill-fated first date, Oliver and Felicity will be getting married and committing a felony--maybe! However, there will definitely be smut in later chapters!***This is now complete!**





	1. Chapter 1

_**The Foundry** _

_9:00 p.m._

“Are you ready to get some dinner?” Oliver asked, drumming his fingers against the desk as he swiveled to look at Felicity. As had been the norm lately, he felt his heart lurch when she glanced at him and smiled.

Though he was still mourning his mother, every day, the darkness dissipated a bit more. And in the weeks since Slade's defeat, clarity had begun to supercede grief. Oliver now knew unequivocally that he had meant it when he told Felicity he loved her. In fact, he had known that it was the truth the moment the words had spilled from his lips. It had just taken him a few months to admit it to himself. He knew that it was time to come clean, but he feared that the truth would disrupt their new normal. He had come to love all the ways his life had seamlessly intertwined with hers. Since he had lost control of Queen Consolidated and most of his assets, Oliver had been spending nearly all his time in the Foundry. Whenever Felicity had free time, she was there, too. In the chilled, cavernous space, they devised ways for Oliver to reclaim his position as CEO. They made plans for the future. When they weren’t talking, Oliver was finding new ways to test his physical limits and Felicity was carefully studying her monitor, sneaking glimpses at Oliver’s bare torso when she thought he wasn’t looking. But he had seen every glance. Each one had validated his hope that she might want him, too. Watching as Felicity’s fingers stilled above the keyboard, Oliver resolved to broach the subject with her tonight.

Felicity said, “Let me finish up here. I just got an email that looks important.”

Oliver nodded and stood slowly, stretching his spine as he straightened. “Big Belly Burger?” He felt stupid picking such a common spot for what could be a life-changing conversation, but he wanted to keep things as casual as possible. When Felicity didn't respond, Oliver turned toward her and froze.

She was glowering at her monitor, looking as if she might put her fist through the screen.

“Okay, so no Big Belly Burger,” he teased gently. When she remained silent, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Is everything okay?” he asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“That...fucking...bog witch,” Felicity growled.

Oliver raised his eyebrows and stepped sideways into her peripheral vision. “Bog witch?” he asked.

“Isabel,” Felicity spat. “When she fired me, she invalidated my H-1B visa.” She looked at Oliver. “I have to go back to Canada.”

**> >>>>>>**

Oliver felt a surge of panic as he struggled to process Felicity’s words. Dropping back into the chair next to her, his pulse began racing. “No,” he said simply.

Felicity arched an eyebrow. “I don’t have much of a choice, Oliver.”

“Isabel fired you two months ago, and she's not the CEO anymore. Why is this coming up now?"

Felicity said, “I came to the U.S. on a student visa so that I could study at MIT.”

Oliver nodded.

“After I graduated, QC offered me a job. In doing so, the company became the sponsor for my H-1B visa.”

Comprehension dawning, Oliver’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “You’re no longer employed by your sponsor.”

Nodding, Felicity added, “It took some time for word of my termination from QC to reach ICE, but it seems they know now. I hadn’t started the process of applying for permanent legal status yet. So I’m out of options." She scowled. “And I don’t think working at Tech Village meets the U.S. government’s definition of ‘skilled laborer.’”

“There’s got to be another way,” Oliver said, hating the tinge of desperation coloring his voice.

Sounding defeated, Felicity said, “If I ever want to be allowed back into the country again, I have to leave within ten days.” She sighed. “The longer I stay here illegally, the harder it’ll be for me to re-enter the U.S. in the future. If I stay here illegally for a year, they can ban me from entering the country for ten years.”

Oliver gaped at her.

Felicity smiled gently at him. “It’s not worth it, Oliver. I don’t want to be away from…” She paused, eyes fixed on his face. “I don’t want to be away from Starling City any longer than I have to be.”

Her pause seemed significant, and it had a fortifying effect on Oliver. With a sudden sense of resolve, Oliver took Felicity’s hands in his. Involuntarily, he found himself running his thumb over her left ring finger.

“Marry me,” Oliver said matter-of-factly, barely suppressing the tremor in his voice.

Felicity felt her jaw drop. “Are you--what--why?” After pausing, she repeated, “Why?”

Oliver smiled ruefully. “I need you here with me.”

A deep flush spread over Felicity's cheeks.

“I can't do any of this without you,” Oliver gestured around the Foundry. He regretted his response when he saw hurt flash across her eyes. He had made it seem like he was referring solely to her role on Team Arrow. He grasped for the words to describe all the reasons he needed her near him, but he felt ill-equipped. He had only recently come to terms with his feelings, and he knew this wasn't the time to admit them. Asking her to marry him and then admitting that he was in love with her would only further complicate the situation.

Felicity said gently, “You don't have to do this. I appreciate that you want to, but…” she trailed off. “They have internet connectivity even in my remote corner of the Northwest Territories.” She wrinkled her nose uncertainly. “It's probably dial-up, but I can still be part of Team Arrow remotely.”

Oliver shook his head. “I--we function better with you here. I want to do this for you if you'll let me.” He paused. “Unless you **want** to go home” he added, feeling momentarily terrified.

Felicity scoffed. “There's nothing for me there. My parents are both gone, and my hometown is a small place with smaller-minded people. _This_ is my home, Oliver.” Her gaze bore into him.

Noticing that Felicity's fingers were still laced through his, Oliver felt a surge of hope. “Does that mean you're accepting my proposal?”

Felicity looked embarrassed but she was smiling. “Only if you're sure. And I promise you that as soon as I've got my green card, we can get a divorce, and you can move on with your life. I don't want to keep you from moving forward.”

Oliver's heart lurched. When he envisioned his future, he saw Felicity. He shook his head. “You could never hold me back.” He released her hands with a gentle squeeze.

She smiled at him, and something broke in his chest.

Oliver stood and extended a hand. “So, do you want to get dinner and plan our wedding?”

Felicity's smile morphed into a grin, and she took his hand, rising to her feet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite a long chapter! I struggled with the set-up, but I like the way it turned out. The majority of the chapter is from Oliver's perspective. There's only a hint of smut here, but I anticipate including more in future chapters!

**_Three Months Later_ **

_The Foundry_

6:30 p.m.

 

Felicity had just started descending into the Foundry when she heard Oliver growl, " _John_ , I am _asking_ you to drop it."

She paused on the stairs, trying to parse out the context.

Sounding unruffled, Dig replied, "It doesn't sound like you're asking." He paused. "You're going to have to admit it eventually, man."

Felicity remained frozen. She didn't want to interrupt or eavesdrop. As she turned to sneak back upstairs, she heard her name.

Whipping around, she saw Oliver striding toward the staircase. She expected to see anger on his face, but she only saw a furrowed brow and a slight frown.

"How long have you been there?" he asked resignedly.

Wincing, Felicity blurted, "Long enough to know that you 'asked' Dig to leave something alone." She used air quotes for emphasis. Then, she added, "But you used your bossy voice."

Though Oliver huffed in exasperation, the corners of his lips crept upward. Felicity allowed a grin to stretch across her face.

"I'm heading out," Oliver said, placing his foot on the bottom step.

When he reached Felicity, he paused and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'll see you at home?"

Ignoring the swooping sensation in her stomach, Felicity nodded. "I just need to check on something I started this morning. I'll be home in about 45 minutes."

Oliver shot her a quick smile. "Have you eaten yet?"

Felicity shook her head.

"I'll make us some dinner," he said, continuing up the stairs. As he reached the door, he called over his shoulder, "Night, Dig."

Sounding amused, Dig replied, "Night, Oliver."

With a click and a whoosh of the door, Oliver exited the Foundry, leaving a loaded silence in his wake.

Felicity bounded down the last few steps and made a beeline for her computer. If she focused on the algorithm that had been running all day, her brain wouldn't be able to torture her. It would be too busy to conjure images of Oliver's smile or make her relive the sensation of his calloused fingers brushing against her bare shoulder. She sat and began typing rapidly, the keys clacking loudly.

"It seems like you two are settling into domesticity pretty well," Dig remarked lightly.

Pausing only slightly in her ferocious assault on the keyboard, Felicity shot him a long-suffering look. "We have to _look_ married."

Dig nodded but said nothing.

Feeling a wave of irritation, Felicity lifted her hands from the keyboard and turned toward Dig. "Look, the interview for my green card is next week, and they're due to come for a home visit any time. We have to develop routines and act like a real couple." She removed her glasses and scrubbed her eyes with her palm.

"I know, and you're doing a good job." Dig hesitated. "You've made it look easy. Can't help but wonder why."

Felicity's face burned. She jammed her glasses back onto her face. "If you have something to say, Dig, could you please just say it? I'd like to get home to…" she trailed off, wishing the floor would swallow her up.

Dig's expression was a mixture of amusement and resolve.

"I just can't help but wonder how you're handling all this," he said gently.

Felicity quirked an eyebrow. "Well, being married to the most beautiful man I've ever seen has certainly been a trial, but I'm managing," she deadpanned. As soon as the words spilled out, she regretted them. That feeling intensified when she saw the smile tugging at the corners of Dig's lips. "I just meant that, objectively, Oliver is an Adonis." She shook her head, willing herself to stop talking. "It's fine. Everything is fine," she insisted, knowing that she wasn't fooling Dig.

He stared at Felicity with an enigmatic expression.

"I've watched you fall in love with each other over the past two years," Dig said carefully.

Felicity scoffed. "Are you serious? Have you _met_ Oliver?"

Dig held up a hand. "Hear me out."

She inclined her head reluctantly.

"On Lian Yu, I saw your expression after you talked to Oliver on the beach. I saw the way you sat as far from him as possible in that tiny plane. I saw the way you pretended to sleep the whole way home so that we wouldn't notice that you weren't talking."

Felicity felt panic churning in her stomach. She said nothing.

"And then not too long after we got home, you and Oliver got married. That's got to be causing some anguish," he added gently.

Desperate to avoid the topic, Felicity decided to change the subject. "Actually, the fact that QC's board of directors still hasn't reinstated Oliver as CEO is causing me anguish. They're evaluating outside candidates and even considering a buyout. It could be months before they make a move."

Dig shot her a reproachful look. "We're not talking about Queen Consolidated right now."

Seeing an opportunity, Felicity shot back, "But, technically, I'm only married to Oliver because he's no longer the CEO of QC." She fell silent when she saw the exasperation on Dig's face. After a beat, she felt herself deflate. John Diggle wasn't stupid. There was no way she could deceive him.

"Fine," she said softly. "Fine. You're right."

Dig's face remained impassive.

"I love him," she whispered. "But it doesn't matter. He only married me because he felt sorry for me...and because he needs my tech expertise."

Scowling, Dig replied, "That's not true, and you know it."

Felicity rolled her eyes.

"Have you told him how you feel?" Dig asked.

A nervous laugh bubbled up from Felicity's throat. "Of course not," she scoffed. She rose from her chair and began walking toward the stairs. "I'm gonna go home, too."

Dig frowned. "I'm just saying that you should broach the subject with him. You might be surprised--"

Felicity cut him off with a dismissive wave. "We had that conversation on Lian Yu. The relief on his face when I…" she trailed off. With a wry smile, she added, "He's made it very clear that the _Green Arrow_ doesn't date. And, really, who could blame him?"

Seeing that Dig was about to speak, Felicity shook her head. "Please don't. The more I think about it, the harder it is for me to live with him. I'm just trying to get through this with some of my dignity intact."

Dig grimaced. After a moment, he nodded. "He wouldn't have married you if he didn't care about you."

A ripple of hope swelled in her chest. She tamped it down immediately and cast a wary smile at Dig. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night, Felicity," Dig said.

Though Dig was smiling, Felicity could detect sadness in his eyes. His concern was sweet, but he was dead wrong. Oliver didn't love her...at least not the way that she loved him.

**> >>>>>>**

**_Felicity's_  ** **_Apartment (Oliver Lives There, Too)_ **

6:50 p.m. 

Oliver switched on the oven light and bent to look inside. The roasted vegetables needed at least another 20 minutes, and the fresh pasta would only take a few minutes to cook. He glanced at the clock and, deciding that he had enough time to shower, set off toward his room. Technically, it was the spare bedroom, but he had been sleeping there since he'd moved in. For the sake of appearances, though, he kept most of his stuff in Felicity's bedroom.

He stood in her doorway, shrugged out of his clothes, and tossed them in the hamper next to her dresser. With a quick glance at his watch, he made his way to the bathroom and closed the door. As his hand touched the faucet, he realized that he hadn't grabbed a towel. He pivoted toward the door and pulled it open. Before he could take one step toward the linen closet, he froze. Felicity was standing in the doorway of her bedroom. Her eyes were wide, and a deep flush was spreading rapidly across her face and neck. She seemed to be putting a great deal of effort into studying Oliver's hairline, but he saw her eyes dart downward several times. These not-so-covert glances sent blood rushing toward his groin, especially when he saw traces of lust in her eyes.

They stared at each other for what felt like hours before Oliver took a giant step backward into the bathroom and closed the door. In reality, their staring contest had lasted all of three seconds. After a moment, he cracked the door and stuck his head out. Felicity remained frozen, one foot in her bedroom and one foot in the hallway. If he hadn't been so embarrassed, Oliver would have been thrilled at the desire he detected in Felicity's gaze. Yes, she looked mortified, but he was sure that at least a few of her downward glances had been intentional.

"I am so--" Oliver stopped mid-sentence when Felicity started apologizing, too.

"I'm sorry!" Felicity squeaked. "I didn't see anything! I mean, not that there wasn't anything to _see_! I'm sure you are very--"

Feeling a surge of affection and wishing that he could stop Felicity's babbling with his lips, Oliver laughed. Felicity looked relieved. "It's okay. I forgot to grab a towel, and I didn't think you'd be home so soon." He paused. "Obviously I was wrong. I'm sorry you had to see that." Though he had meant to sound sincere, he realized that he had adopted a playful tone. He was flirting with her. _Fuck_ , he thought.

Felicity raised an eyebrow. "Yes, looking at you is always the worst part of my day. And seeing you naked was utterly horrific." Then, as if realizing that she was flirting, too, she grimaced. "You know I'm just kidding, right? Your body is…" she trailed off, looking as if she wanted to disappear.

Her visible discomfort dragged him back to reality. He never wanted her to feel uneasy or embarrassed around him. He smiled wryly. "Forget about it. Could you please hand me a towel? I'll get a quick shower and then finish making dinner."

Felicity nodded, opened the linen closet, and took two hesitant steps toward the bathroom door. She handed him a deep purple towel and turned away.

"Thank you," Oliver said softly. Instinctively, his gaze dropped to Felicity's ass. She was wearing an emerald green pencil skirt and charcoal gray heels. With Herculean effort, he tore his eyes from the green fabric clinging to her thighs. "I'll be out in a few minutes," he said.

Felicity turned around and smiled. "I'll pick out the wine."

Oliver nodded and closed the door. Despite his embarrassment, he was smiling. He had seen the way Felicity had allowed her gaze to linger on him--on his groin, his abs, his shoulders. As he stepped under the warm water, he sighed, remembering the slight hitch in her breath when she'd first dropped her eyes to his cock.

Oliver wasn't oblivious to his physical appeal, but the feeling of Felicity's eyes raking his body had been profoundly different from the stares of other women he'd been with. Those women had looked like explorers plotting to conquer an uncharted land--like sleeping with him had been some sort of achievement. The way Felicity had looked at him, however, had been suffused with equal parts warmth, mischief, and lust--like she couldn't wait to share a secret with him. In a way, he guessed she did have a secret of sorts.

He massaged shampoo into his hair in an effort to keep his hands busy. The skirt she had been wearing had filled his head with filthy thoughts, and he was trying to suppress them. It had been so long since he'd had sex, but masturbating in Felicity's apartment made him feel like a degenerate. He'd done so sparingly, and certainly not when she'd been home. He feared that he'd inadvertently call out her name, and if she heard him, no excuse or apology would repair such a violation. _But_ , he reasoned to himself,  _if he didn't take care of his growing erection, it could become more problematic_. _Felicity would likely be changing into her standard leggings and tank top right now. What if she bent over to pick something up, and he got a clear view of her breasts, barely covered by a sports bra?_ He shook his head and dropped his right hand between his legs. With a soft groan, he wrapped his fingers around his cock and began pumping slowly.

He always felt so guilty thinking about her when he was jerking off, but he couldn't help it. Her penchant for heels and tight skirts drove him crazy. Plus, he had always been partial to the sexy teacher trope, and, for him, Felicity was the walking embodiment of that particular fantasy. He imagined her braless in a skintight button-down shirt, a pencil skirt with a high slit, and heels. This particular image spurred him to move his hand faster. He moaned quietly, knowing that it wouldn't take much more to push him over the edge. It had been at least a month since he'd allowed himself to do this. He imagined Felicity sitting on a teacher's desk with her skirt hiked up. Maybe she'd "teach" him to eat her out. God, he wanted to taste her so badly. With visions of burying his face between her thighs, he felt himself come undone.

As he came, he hissed Felicity's name as softly as he could. It was still louder than he would have liked. He winced and bit his lip to prevent himself from crying out more as his orgasm tore through his body. He knew that she was probably in the living room by now, but he didn't want to risk her hearing him. With jellylike limbs, he turned toward the shower head to let the water wash away the evidence of his lust. Though his physical need had dissipated, his release had felt empty. As much as he wanted to do unspeakable things with Felicity, he also wanted _all_ of her. He wanted to celebrate every triumph, face every crisis, and muddle through every mundane task with her. With a scoff, he realized that the arrangement he was envisioning was a marriage.

Annoyed, he finally began rinsing the shampoo from his hair. He had to focus on the reason they'd gotten married to begin with. If they couldn't convince the USCIS that their marriage was legitimate, Felicity would be deported and likely barred from reentering the United States. He knew he'd face legal consequences, too, but those paled in comparison to losing Felicity. It would be stupid to risk fracturing their unified front by initiating a discussion about their true feelings for each other. What if he admitted that he loved her and she didn't reciprocate? He shook his head. It wasn't worth it. When Felicity had obtained her green card, he'd tell her. Until then, he'd focus on being the best fake husband she could ask for.

**> >>>>>>**

Felicity padded down the hallway toward the linen closet in search of the first-aid kit. She'd torn her finger open trying to use a corkscrew. Oliver had done everything else to prepare dinner. The wine was her only responsibility, and she'd managed to fuck it up. There were band-aids in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, but she refused to risk another glimpse at Oliver's perfect naked body. As she pulled open the closet door, she thought she heard Oliver groan. She took a step closer to the bathroom and paused. Thinking that she must have been hearing things, she shrugged. Then, as she grabbed the box of bandages and gauze, she clearly heard Oliver say her name. She froze. He couldn't have known she was in the hallway. Even _his_ senses weren't that attuned. She murmured, "What is he doing in--" before the answer struck her like a clap of thunder. "Oh, my God," she whispered. He was masturbating. In their shower. AND THINKING ABOUT HER. Unable to process this information, she pushed the closet door shut and sprinted toward the kitchen.

When she had moved far enough away from the evidence that her "crush" might not have been so one-sided, she dumped the first-aid kit on the counter. She stared at the box uncomprehendingly until she remembered that her finger was bleeding. As she unwrapped a band-aid, she heard the water shut off in the bathroom. Oliver opened the door. This time, the lower half of his body was covered. But the towel around his waist did nothing to disguise the way the beads of water were clinging to the ridges of his abs. Trying and failing to rip her gaze from Oliver's glistening shoulders, she gulped. For the first time, she admitted to herself that she wanted to sleep with her husband. She was fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, again, this chapter visits Smut Town only briefly. However, I'm anticipating far more smut in the next chapter!

**_7:15 p.m_**.

Oliver exited the bathroom with a towel around his waist and set off toward the kitchen. Felicity looked up when she saw him approaching, but she immediately dropped her gaze to the counter, cheeks flaming. Inwardly, Oliver scolded himself for not getting dressed first. It'd be better for both of them if he didn't wander around half-naked.

As he approached the counter, Felicity said, "The timer beeped, so I turned the oven off. I hope that was okay." Oliver noticed that she had carefully fixed her gaze on her hands. She wasn't meeting his eyes.

He nodded. "Thanks. I'll make the pasta as soon as I get dressed." With alarm, he realized that the first-aid kit was lying open on the counter and Felicity's index finger was bandaged.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

With a self-deprecating scoff, Felicity nodded. "Yeah, I just got into a fight with the corkscrew. You know me--hopeless at all things domestic."

Oliver chuckled uncomfortably. A new kind of tension crackled around them. Everything had seemed okay when he'd gotten in the shower--despite their awkward encounter in the hallway. What had changed? Suddenly, his gaze landed on the first-aid kit. Panic reverberated in his chest.

Trying to sound casual, he asked, "When did that happen?"

For the first time, Felicity met his gaze. "Right after you got in the shower."

Her expression was unreadable, but Oliver thought he saw traces of discomfort, anger, and even pride on her face.

He knew immediately that he'd been too loud. She must have heard him when she'd gone to retrieve the first-aid kit. He felt himself deflate, and he began grappling for an adequate apology. But what could he say? "I know you're not my real wife, but I've loved you for two years, and I can't stand not being able to touch you anymore. Sorry you heard me jerking off to you in the shower"? He winced. Denial wasn't an option either.

Inhaling deeply, he said, "Felicity, I--" But he stopped when she held up a hand.

"Were you thinking about me while you were jerking off?" she asked, crossing her arms.

His heart clenched and color rose on his cheeks. He wasn't used to feeling vulnerable around women. "Yes," he said simply.

"Why?" Her brow furrowed and she chewed at her bottom lip.

Oliver paused. He hadn't expected this reaction. He'd anticipated anger and disgust--not this restrained line of questioning. Each possible response sounded worse than the last. Finally, seeing a flash of impatience cross Felicity's face, Oliver cleared his throat.

"Um, the skirt and heels you were wearing earlier...looked stunning on you," he said awkwardly. That part was true, at least. He certainly wasn't going to divulge the emotional component of his attraction to her.

Her face softened incrementally.

"And, um, it's been a long time since I've…been with anyone..." Oliver trailed off, looking embarrassed.

Felicity's face hardened again instantaneously, and Oliver felt a surge of regret. He should have stopped talking sooner.

With a grimace, he started backpedaling. "Wait, no, that came out wrong."

Shaking her head, Felicity stared hard at Oliver. "I'm sorry that being married to me is disrupting your sex life, but you were the one who insisted on doing this."

Stammering, Oliver replied, "No, but I--I didn't--that's not what I'm saying."

Felicity glared at him. "What _are_ you saying, Oliver? Because it sounds like you were horny and you took inspiration from the first female life-form you saw."

Oliver's jaw dropped. "No, that's not--"

Scoffing, Felicity interrupted him. "We're married in name only, so if you really need to go _sow your wild oats_ or whatever, fine. Just don't let anyone catch you, or we could both go to jail for marriage fraud."

Oliver couldn't speak.

"And don't make this arrangement more complicated than it has to be by allowing this…" she paused, gesturing between them impatiently "...attraction to metastasize into something messier."

Unable to believe what he'd just heard, Oliver stared at Felicity. But as he tried to decode her meaning, a loud knock echoed against the front door.

Fight momentarily forgotten, Oliver took a few steps toward the entryway.

"Oliver," Felicity hissed.

He stopped and looked at her questioningly.

"You're naked!" she whisper-shouted.

With a groan, he turned and hurried toward Felicity's bedroom.

As he shut the door behind him, he heard Felicity speaking in the bright, aggressively polite voice she reserved for Tech Village customers. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but he hoped whoever it was would go away quickly.

Had Felicity really referred to the...connection between them as an attraction? Did that mean she felt something for him? He shook his head. There was a big difference between love and sexual attraction.

He heard Felicity laugh nervously, and he hurriedly pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs and dark-wash jeans. Rummaging in the drawers that Felicity had set aside for him, he found a forest green henley and tugged it over his head. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair and opened the bedroom door.

As he walked down the hallway, he heard an unfamiliar female voice asking, "And what does your husband do now that he's lost his family's company?"

Oliver scowled briefly, wondering how someone could imbue one question with so much disapproval. However, as he approached the kitchen, he arranged his face into the disarming smile that had entranced countless women over the years.

"I've been doing some consulting work with a government organization," he said smoothly, resting a hand on the counter top.

Felicity looked relieved to see Oliver, but her eyes still radiated anger.

The middle-aged woman standing next to Felicity nodded but said nothing.

In a strained voice, Felicity said, "Oliver, this is Deidre Marsh from USCIS. She's conducting a home visit for my green card application."

Dread clawed at Oliver's stomach, but he forced himself to continue smiling. "Hello, Ms. Marsh," he said pleasantly.

Deidre's brow furrowed. " _Mrs._ Marsh," she corrected primly.

Swallowing a grimace, Oliver inclined his head courteously. "My apologies, Mrs. Marsh. How can we help you?"

Nodding crisply, Deidre reached into the messenger bag on her shoulder and retrieved a clipboard.

"Really, I'd just like to observe as you go about your evening. What were you doing before I arrived?"

Felicity smiled unconvincingly. "We were about to eat dinner. Would you like to join us?"

Deidre shook her head. "No, thank you, Mrs. Queen. If it's okay, I'll just take a look around."

Oliver groaned inwardly.

Felicity bristled. "It's 'Smoak,'" she said evenly.

Pursing her lips, Deidre uncapped a pen and began scribbling rapidly on her clipboard.

Seeking to salvage the situation, Oliver moved toward the refrigerator. "Please take your time, Mrs. Marsh. Let us know if we can be of any help."

"Thank you, Mr. Queen," she replied briskly, striding toward Felicity's bedroom.

When Oliver and Felicity were alone in the kitchen, he retrieved the pasta from the refrigerator and placed it on the counter. Then, he grabbed a pot and padded over to the sink. As he filled the pot with water, he sensed Felicity staring at him.

"Are you really cooking dinner right now?"

With a sigh, Oliver gestured toward the closed bedroom door and whispered, "We have to act like everything is normal."

Eyes narrowed, Felicity hissed, "So we're going to pretend like you _weren't_ just thinking about me while you were getting yourself off?"

Shame blazed in Oliver's chest. "I promise that we'll finish our discussion after Aunt Lydia leaves."

Felicity snickered, but her amusement was short-lived.

Oliver placed the pot on the stove and lit the front burner. He racked his brain for an explanation that would smooth things over without forcing him to admit the depth of his feelings. This train of thought was interrupted when Deidre yanked the bedroom door open and marched into the kitchen.

She stopped just short of the island in the middle of the room.

"Mr. Queen, what side of the bed do you sleep on?" Deidre asked without preamble.

Oliver forced his face into an amiable smile. He remembered that Felicity sleeps on the right side. "The left side," he replied casually, adding salt to the boiling water. As he dropped the pasta into the pot, he tried to decode her thought process.

With a furrowed brow, Deidre wrote a note on her clipboard. "That's interesting. Your bedside table is empty, and I didn't see a phone charger anywhere."

Oliver cursed internally. How had they not thought of that?

Plastering a mischievous grin on his face, he turned to face Deidre. "Well, we keep all the _fun_ stuff in Felicity's bedside table." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Deidre frowned in disapproval, and Felicity looked homicidal.

"And I charge my phone in the spare bedroom. I try to 'unplug' at night. I don't want the blue light disrupting my sleep patterns."

Looking suspicious, Deidre nodded curtly and pivoted away from them. A moment later, the door to the spare bedroom clicked shut.

Oliver held up his hands in a conciliatory manner before Felicity could speak. "I know. I'm sorry. But I'm trying to make her believe that we're…" he trailed off, trying to find the most diplomatic way to phrase it.

Felicity's eyes blazed. "Fucking?" she supplied.

Oliver winced and turned toward the stove, lifting the pot from the burner. Walking toward the sink, he replied, "I was going to say, 'married,' but sure."

As he dumped the pot's boiling contents into the colander, he felt Felicity's gaze boring into him. He took his time selecting plates and a serving bowl from the cupboard next to the sink.

When he glanced back at her, he saw that her anger had been supplanted by hurt. His heart stuttered.

"I'm glad you think this is all a joke, Oliver," she snapped.

Before he could respond, Deidre reemerged from the spare bedroom.

Felicity and Oliver exchanged a glance, silently calling a temporary truce. Oliver returned his attention to the meal he was assembling, and Felicity retrieved wine glasses from the cupboard.

As Deidre entered the kitchen, Oliver asked, "Are you sure you don't want to join us for dinner, Mrs. Marsh? You're more than welcome." He spoke with fake warmth.

Deidre shook her head. "No, thank you. I'd like to just sit and fill out some paperwork while I continue observing."

Oliver's jaw tightened. "Of course," he said politely. He gestured toward the living room and added, "Make yourself comfortable."

She nodded curtly and headed toward the couch.

Oliver watched her from the corner of his eye. She moved around, looking at the framed photos on the wall. Suddenly, he was glad that Felicity had insisted on finding, printing, and framing the best pictures they'd taken together over the past two years.

He turned to face Felicity and scooped pasta and vegetables onto her plate. He smiled cautiously at her. "More or less?"

Felicity nodded, avoiding Oliver's eyes. "That's good."

Oliver put food on his own plate and followed Felicity to the table. She was pouring wine into two glasses. He couldn't help but grin when he realized that the band-aid on her finger was emblazoned with tiny Cupids wielding bows and arrows. God, she was adorable.

However, Felicity was studiously ignoring Oliver and drinking deeply from her wine glass.

In the living room, Deidre had settled on the couch with her clipboard and turned her attention toward the awkward scene unfolding at the kitchen table.

Noting the frown on Deidre's face, Oliver tried to catch Felicity's eye by nodding almost imperceptibly toward the couch.

Despite her anger, Felicity inclined her head.

"So, how was your day?" Oliver asked with forced lightness just as Felicity lifted a forkful of food to her mouth.

Oliver smiled, but Felicity's expression was pained as she chewed.

After swallowing, she smiled warily. "This is delicious. Thank you."

This compliment filled Oliver with an irrational amount of pride. "I'm glad you like it," he said softly.

She nodded. "My day was fine. I sold people technology they don't understand for exorbitant amounts of money. And at least three male customers demanded to speak to a man because they wanted someone who 'knew what they were doing.'"

Oliver scoffed. "Dumbasses."

He was gratified to see a genuine smile ghost across her lips, but it was fleeting.

After taking another sip of her wine, Felicity stared at Oliver with an inscrutable expression. "How was your day? Did you get a chance to look into that...thing we talked about this morning?"

They'd discussed several Arrow-related issues that morning. Was she talking about the handful of Mirakuru soldiers that had been eluding the cops since Slade's imprisonment? Or was she talking about the sudden flood of Morpheus--a new hallucinogenic drug--onto the streets of Starling City?

Either way, he couldn't discuss his findings in front of the dour woman lurking in their living room.

He took another gulp of wine and nodded. "Uh-huh," he said noncommittally.

Felicity raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Well, those, uh, stray cats we've been worried about are still wandering around the Glades."

Confusion briefly washed over Felicity's face. A moment later, though, she nodded.

"And as for the, uh, missionaries that have been harassing people--I spoke to the, uh, building management, and they're looking into it."

Furrowing her brow, Felicity took another bite of pasta.

Realizing the futility of speaking in code, Oliver followed her lead.

They spent the next few minutes eating in charged silence.

When Oliver had cleared his plate, he looked up to see that Felicity's was empty, too. "Can I get you some more?"

She shook her head. "No, thanks. It was really good, though." She smiled wanly.

Oliver smiled back.

Suddenly, Deidre cleared her throat. Oliver turned his head and saw that she was standing several feet away.

She held out her pen and clipboard to Oliver and said, "I think I've seen enough." Her double meaning was evident.

"I just need you and your wife to sign here to confirm that you were present for my visit," she added.

Relief surged through Oliver. But the feeling was short-lived. When he looked down at the clipboard, he saw that Deidre had written several problematic phrases, including  _maiden name usage_ ,  _stilted_ , _aloof_ , and _further review_. With a sigh, Oliver scribbled his signature at the bottom and handed the clipboard to Felicity.

She signed her name without so much as glancing at the page's contents and returned it to Deidre.

With a curt nod, Deidre accepted it and moved toward the door. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, she turned to Oliver and Felicity. "Thank you for your cooperation. We'll see you at your interview next week, Mr. and _Mrs_. Queen."

Without waiting for a response, she exited the apartment, shutting the door behind her with a firm click.

For several minutes, Oliver and Felicity looked at each other in stunned silence. Then, Felicity shook her head and said, "I'll clean up."

She walked away, giving him no time to argue. When Oliver followed her into the kitchen, Felicity wheeled to face him. "You made dinner, Oliver. Let me clean up."

Oliver frowned. "I'll help you."

Felicity dropped dirty silverware in the sink with a clatter. "I just need some time to think, okay?" Her voice had begun inching toward hysterical.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Oliver nodded and retreated silently to the spare bedroom. He sank onto the bed and stared unseeingly at the wall.

**> >>>>>>**

As Felicity put the last piece of silverware in the dishwasher, she felt a twinge of regret. Had she been too hard on Oliver? The thought vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Pretending to be Oliver's wife had been harder than she had ever imagined. Not because he was a bad husband--he was actually perfect. He routinely left sweet notes in the lunches he packed for her, and he did all the laundry because he knew how much she hated it. No, the problem was that he'd only married her to help her stay in the U.S. And while she appreciated the risks he had taken to help her avoid deportation, the fact remained that she was in love with him.

She'd loved him for years, and every time someone mistakenly called her "Mrs. Queen" or referred to Oliver as her husband, her heart splintered. She wanted this to be real.

And knowing that he'd been thinking about her in the shower made things worse for several reasons. First, it ignited a spark of hope that she refused to indulge. She knew that his appreciation of her body didn't necessarily translate to an actual emotional connection. It didn't matter that he'd gotten himself off to thoughts of her--he didn't love her.

Her second reason was far more selfish. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had sex. If she was being honest, Oliver had ruined other men for her. For longer than she'd cared to admit, she'd often thought about him when getting herself off. With visions of his sweat-slicked torso, leather-clad ass, and nimble fingers wrapped around his bow, she'd consistently come undone on her trusty rabbit vibrator.

Now she knew that he'd been getting off while thinking about her, too. She tried to suppress visions of his strong fingers gripping his cock. This was made all the more challenging by the fact that she had actually seen said cock earlier. She shivered. While his length had been impressive, his girth had elicited a sharp intake of breath. This memory generated a surge of heat in her abdomen.

With a sudden burst of clarity, Felicity realized that she could use this situation to her advantage. Why should Oliver alone benefit from their--admittedly strong--mutual physical attraction? She could use him just like he had used her--to fulfill a physical need--nothing more.

Buoyed by this epiphany, she moved toward her room. After closing the door, she lifted her shirt over her head and peeled off her leggings. She plucked a piece of silky green fabric from her underwear drawer and tugged it over her head. As she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she told herself that sleeping with Oliver would allow them to work through the awkwardness caused by their mutual attraction. It'd be like scratching an itch. They'd have sex once and move on. She nodded decisively and wrenched open the door. Before she could talk herself out of it, she marched to Oliver's room and paused in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

Upon sensing Felicity's presence, Oliver looked up from his book with a cautious smile. His eyes widened when he saw what she was wearing, but he remained silent.

Felicity's heart lurched. She noticed that he was reading _The Handmaid's Tale_ , and she felt a grin tugging at her lips. She'd just finished reading it last week.

Inhaling deeply, she stared at Oliver. "Can we talk?" she asked.


	4. Chapter 4

When he saw what Felicity was wearing, Oliver was almost certain he was dreaming. There was no way she'd actually appear in his doorway wearing _that_ \--especially after he'd violated the unspoken rules of their relationship. 

But when she spoke, he knew that he was wide awake. He tried to drag his gaze from the way the green silk--she'd been wearing _so_ much green lately--hugged her curves. The sheer panels in the cups of her chemise revealed significant swaths of skin. Oliver could see hints of her dusty pink areolae peeking out from beneath the edges of the embroidery. Blood surged to his cock, and he was grateful for the book he'd dropped on his lap.

Forcing himself to pay attention, he met Felicity's eyes. "Of course we can talk," he said too casually.

Felicity took a few hesitant steps into the room, stopping several feet from the bed.

Desperate to break the charged silence, Oliver said, "I'm really sorry about earlier." He searched her face, but her expression was guarded. "I'm sorry for everything," he amended.

Her face softened. "Things have become complicated," she conceded. "And I think I might have a solution," she added.

The mischievous glint in her eyes commanded his full attention. 

"I'm all ears," he said softly. 

After taking a fortifying breath, she spoke quietly but confidently. "We should have sex."

Oliver wouldn't have been more surprised if Felicity had declared her intention to depose the Saudi Arabian king and claim his throne for herself.

"We should...have sex?" he repeated.

Felicity nodded. She looked nervous, but she showed no sign of wavering.

Conflicting emotions swirled within him. Mostly, he wanted to convey his enthusiastic consent by springing from the bed and crashing his lips against Felicity's. This instinct clearly originated in his hindbrain.

He settled for staring incredulously at her. "Why?"

She chewed her lip. "You're clearly attracted to me on some level," she said cautiously.

Oliver felt a jolt of elation. Lying would be counterproductive. He nodded slowly. "You're beautiful," he said simply.

A slow smile spread across her lips. "You're not so bad yourself," she said.

His heart skittered briefly before his brain took over. He cared about her too much to risk ruining their relationship with casual sex. When they had jumped through all the green card hoops, Oliver wanted to try this relationship for real. "It's not a good idea," he finally said in a deceptively firm tone.

Felicity frowned briefly before taking another step toward Oliver. His pulse sped up.

"Wouldn't it be better for us to...exorcise those feelings once and for all?"

Oliver couldn't smother an incredulous scoff. "Are you comparing having sex with me to demonic possession?"

Felicity rolled her eyes impatiently. "I'm speaking figuratively." 

"So you think that after we do this, we'll just be able to act like everything is normal?" Despite his best efforts, Oliver knew that his voice was colored by hurt. 

"We can if we keep emotions out of it," she replied, brow furrowing. "Not that I'm saying there _are_ emotions. I just mean that if one of us did feel emotions, it would be best to ignore them," she added quickly, a flush rising on her cheeks.

"We have to focus on getting your green card," Oliver said with forced calmness.

Felicity moved closer to the bed. "So masturbation is an acceptable distraction, but consensual sex isn't. Got it."

Oliver sighed. "That's not--Those are totally different things," he protested. He knew he was being a hypocrite.

"I'm just saying that there's a mutual attraction here. You think about me when you get off, and I think about you when I get off."

Here, Oliver's eyebrows rose and his pulse sped up. When she touched herself, she thought of him.

Oblivious to Oliver's reaction, Felicity continued, "Logically, it makes more sense for us to just have sex. If we do that, there will be 100% less eye-fucking."

Without meaning to, Oliver chuckled.

Felicity's face darkened and she pivoted toward the door. "If you don't want to have sex with me, just say so. I'm gonna go and burn this thing," she muttered, grasping a fistful of green silk contemptuously.

Before Felicity could exit, Oliver had swung his feet to the floor and crossed the room in several long strides. He'd made up his mind, consequences be damned.

"Wait. I'm sorry," he said, placing a hand on Felicity's arm.

She paused in the doorway and turned to face him, hurt written all over her face. "I can take a hint, Oliver."

Shaking his head, Oliver moved closer to Felicity. "I was only laughing because you're adorable," he said.

Felicity scowled. "That's exactly what a woman wants to hear when she's trying to seduce her husband."

Suppressing a grin, Oliver replied, "You were treating it less like a seduction than a debate. You were trying to seduce me with logic," he added.

Felicity's face softened, and she took a few steps back into the room. Oliver's panic eased. 

"It's so you, and that's one of the reasons I…" Oliver paused. "Your brain is one of the best things about you," he finished lamely.

But Felicity smiled. "Did it work?"

Instead of answering, Oliver brushed his fingertips against Felicity's jaw. He knew he'd regret this, but he'd run out of excuses. He drew Felicity's face close to his, resting his palms on her jawline. His mouth hovered millimeters from her lips. "You tell me," he breathed.

**> >>>>>>**

Felicity shivered. She'd never been this close to Oliver before. Sure, they'd shared a quick perfunctory kiss after exchanging wedding vows, but that had mostly been for the benefit of their witnesses. Only John knew the truth about their arrangement. Everyone else in their lives thought that Oliver had simply stopped being a blockhead and that the two of them had married after a whirlwind romance. 

No, this closeness was different. His touch was achingly gentle, as if he feared that he'd break her. Then she remembered that he could. She pulled back almost imperceptibly, and Oliver's body tensed. But he didn't release her. His eyes never strayed from hers. 

Summoning all her resolve, Felicity whispered, "I need you to do something for me."

Oliver nodded. "Anything." He had begun weaving his fingers into her hair.

"Promise me that nothing will change. Promise me that we'll be the us we were before we got married--that doing this will sweep away all the tension that's been building. Promise me that we won't let any deep-seated feelings come to the surface and ruin everything. Promise me that--" Felicity was interrupted mid-babble when Oliver gently molded his lips against hers.

Felicity was briefly irritated, but the feeling was quickly replaced by sheer contentment. 

Oliver pulled back gently, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I want to make you happy," he said simply. "And if no-strings sex is the way to do that, then I am _more_ than happy to assist." As he spoke, his demeanor changed. His expression became hungry. 

Heat pooled between Felicity's legs. 

"This is what you want?" Oliver asked. His voice had begun inching toward gravelly.

Felicity nodded, and Oliver responded as if a switch had been flipped.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he murmured before crashing his lips against Felicity's. This time, he kissed her with urgency and a slight roughness that ignited her core. 

Felicity kissed Oliver back without hesitation, wrapping her arms around his waist. He tasted of cinnamon, and the way he moved his tongue against hers filled her head with wicked thoughts. In particular, she envisioned his head between her thighs. 

Felicity pressed herself against him and felt a delicious hardness against her stomach. Humming appreciatively, she lowered her right hand between Oliver's legs and ran her fingertips along his length. Though it didn't seem possible, he seemed to grow harder at her touch. He moaned into her mouth and pulled his lips away from hers, dropping his hands to her hips. He gazed down, drinking her in. 

"This looks amazing on you," he breathed, brushing his fingers against the green silk. 

His hands singed her skin--even through the silky material. 

"I bought it in your color," she said softly. 

Oliver clenched his eyes shut briefly, as if seeking composure. After a beat, his eyelids snapped open and his eyes darkened. He rapidly closed the distance between them and pushed Felicity against the wall. 

She moaned softly and wrapped her arms around his neck. Oliver dropped his lips to Felicity's, weaving one hand through her hair and cupping her ass with the other. 

The feeling of his strong fingers on the curve of her ass caused a surge of wetness between her legs. She couldn't stop thinking about the proximity of those fingers to her blazing core. Suddenly, her hands were gripping the hem of Oliver's shirt and tugging upward. 

His lips curved into a smile. Breaking their kiss, he helped Felicity pull the shirt over his head. 

Though she had seen Oliver mostly naked many times, Felicity couldn't tear her gaze from his sculpted torso. She ran a fingernail over the perfectly defined ridges, and Oliver shivered. Felicity smiled before dropping her hands to the waistband of Oliver's jeans. 

However, as Felicity began working the button through the stiff denim, Oliver closed a hand over hers. "Should we take this somewhere more comfortable?" he asked in a voice she'd never heard before. It was both lust-roughened and vulnerable. 

With a grin, she nodded and began pushing him backward toward his bed.

But a few seconds later, Oliver had scooped Felicity into his arms bridal-style and had begun walking toward her bedroom. 

Bewildered and a little annoyed that Oliver was still wearing pants, Felicity huffed, "There's a perfectly good bed in there. You could be naked by now."

Oliver smiled down at her sweetly, but his expression had a predatory glint. "I thought it'd be more fun to consummate our marriage in 'our' bed," he said with a wicked smile.

Despite Felicity's irritation at Oliver's cavalier attitude, this statement shot a jolt of desire through her abdomen.

A moment later, Oliver placed her gently on the bed they'd been pretending to share. Oliver started to crawl onto the bed with Felicity, but she placed a hand on his bare chest. "I'm wearing almost nothing," she said reproachfully.

Oliver grinned. "I know."

Felicity rolled her eyes, but her lips curved upward. "You're wearing too many layers," she said as she sat up straight, scooted to the edge of the bed, and began unbuttoning his jeans. She tugged the stiff denim down his solid thighs, and he stepped out of the pants, kicking the pile of fabric out of the way.

"Better?" he asked, dropping his hands to the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

Inhaling sharply, Felicity watched as Oliver pulled off his underwear and stood silently in front of her. She raked her gaze down his body, freezing on his erection. She had thought his cock was impressive earlier in its half-erect state, but now she was awestruck at its full length and girth. Trying to suppress a shiver, she tore her eyes from his crotch and met his gaze.

He wore a wolfish grin, but his eyes held traces of uncertainty.

Unable to resist touching him, Felicity dropped to her knees and licked a single bead of precum from the tip of his length. Oliver groaned softly.

Grinning, Felicity swirled her tongue around the head of his cock and cupped his balls in her hand. She'd always loved giving head. Judging by the soft moans emanating from his mouth, Oliver was enjoying it, too.

Slowly, Felicity took the rest of Oliver's length into her mouth, stopping only when she had completely sheathed him between her lips. Pausing, she looked up and saw that Oliver had squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head upward in elation. 

As Felicity began thrusting Oliver's cock in and out of her mouth with varying degrees of suction, she noticed that he had wound his fingers through her hair. He was gently slowing her movements. Reluctantly, she pulled her lips from his cock and glanced up, fearing that he'd stopped her because he'd changed his mind.

However, he was gazing at her, his dilated pupils conveying his desperate need. 

"If you keep going, this'll be over too soon," he murmured.

Pride flared in Felicity's chest. 

"And," he added, helping Felicity to her feet, "I want to taste you, too."

Felicity gulped. _Of course_ Oliver liked _giving_ oral sex. He might be the perfect man. However, remembering his penchant for self-martyrdom and perpetual stubbornness, she quickly brushed that thought aside. 

Sounding infinitely more self-assured than she felt, Felicity asked, "How about a compromise?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow before dropping his lips to Felicity's neck. "I'm listening," he said.

The way he started kissing a trail from beneath her jaw to her collarbone said otherwise.

Felicity promptly forgot her suggestion, distracted by the way Oliver's lips seared her skin. A moment later, Oliver started running his hands up her sides, lingering on the curves of her breasts.

With a shiver, Felicity felt her nipples harden. They had stiffened almost painfully into perfect peaks. What had she been about to suggest? Oliver's lips sucked gently at her collarbone. The motion reminded her of what she'd wanted to say.

"There's no reason why I can't keep sucking your cock while you eat me out," she said matter-of-factly. 

Oliver paused and met Felicity's eyes. For a moment, he looked adorably confused. A split second later, comprehension washed over his face. "You're full of good ideas today," he said in a low, approving voice that--Felicity was pretty sure--was the auditory embodiment of sex.

Heart racing, Felicity grinned. She began to push Oliver back onto the bed, but he paused. 

"Can I see you? _Really_ see you?" he asked, sounding almost shy.

Felicity couldn't formulate a cogent response, and Oliver, seemingly afraid that he'd offended her, added hurriedly, "It's up to you, though. I do love that chemise you're wearing. The last thing I want to do is upset--"

Feeling a surge of affection, Felicity pressed her lips against Oliver's. "Usually I'm the one who's babbling," she said softly.

Oliver laughed. "You're so beautiful," he said.

And even though Felicity knew that he'd probably said the same words to countless women, she knew that he meant it. She nodded and dropped her hands to the hem floating above her thighs.

Oliver shook his head. "Let me," he said, all traces of shyness gone. 

Felicity inclined her head and rested her hands loosely at her sides. 

Leaning forward slightly, Oliver grasped the silky green hem and lifted it slowly, making Felicity feel slightly exposed.

This feeling evaporated when she glanced at Oliver and saw the lust etched on his face. 

Then, air hit her bare breasts, and she lifted her arms above her head, allowing Oliver to finish undressing her. 

He stared at her for a moment in silence. Then, he kissed her so deeply that she briefly forgot who she was. 

Pulling away, he said nothing, but he smiled wolfishly. Then, he grabbed her hand and led her onto the bed, where he reclined flat on his back. Felicity perched on her knees next to him while he pushed himself away from the headboard. 

After he had settled, he looked at Felicity and finally spoke. If it weren't for the IUD she'd gotten two months ago--a procedure to which Oliver had accompanied her in case she couldn't drive home--she was certain his words would have rendered her pregnant immediately. 

"Sit on my face," he said, stroking his cock slowly. 

Felicity complied without hesitation, planting one knee on either side of his head, her ass pointing toward the headboard. She placed a hand beside each of his thighs and dropped her head between his legs. 

**> >>>>>>**

Oliver inhaled sharply as Felicity took the tip of his cock between her lips. He'd never felt anything so delicious as the warmth of her mouth.

Still amazed at the night's turn of events, he rested his hands on her thighs. Earlier, he'd been jerking off to the idea of eating her out, and now her slick folds were inches from his mouth. Gently, he pulled her hips down until her pussy was within reach. With his right hand, he spread her folds apart and exhaled softly over her clit. 

Her hips bucked slightly, and she signalled her approval by pushing more of his cock into her mouth. 

Oliver moaned quietly and then brushed a kiss against Felicity's glistening center. He felt her thighs tense against him and responded by flattening his tongue over her entrance and licking a slow, deliberate stripe up to her clit. 

It was hard to focus on technique while Felicity was sucking his cock so enthusiastically, but Oliver told himself that he might never get another chance at this. If he couldn't _tell_ her how he felt, then he could certainly _show_ her. He'd always been better at actions than words, anyway. 

He continued tracing this slow, measured path, periodically dipping his tongue into her tight entrance. 

Pulling his mouth away from Felicity's sex, Oliver murmured, "You taste so good."

Felicity hummed softly and lifted her head from Oliver's cock. "So do you." She took him in her mouth again and continued sucking, squeezing the base of his rigid length with her right hand.

Slipping a finger inside of Felicity, Oliver began gently sucking on her clit. Felicity's moan reverberated around his cock, giving rise to a telltale tingling in his balls.

At the same time, Oliver penetrated Felicity with a second finger. He began licking slow, tight circles around her clit, and he was gratified when her walls squeezed his fingers and she moaned even louder on his cock. Based on the way she was clenching around his hand, she wouldn't be able to last much longer either. 

His cock twitched at the thought of her coming on his face. With a wicked smile, he thrust a third finger into her pussy. He fucked her with his hand in slow, deep thrusts and licked her clit with firm, steady upward strokes.

Moments later, Felicity's thighs started shaking. Oliver expected her to pull her mouth from his cock, but she doubled down, sucking harder as her orgasm intensified.

Just as Felicity fell apart, coating Oliver's mouth and chin in her arousal, Oliver felt himself come unmoored. When he realized that Felicity planned to swallow every drop of his cum, he moaned into her folds. Still fingering her steadily, wanting to help her come down gently, he exploded in her hot, wet mouth. She had taken his whole length between her lips, and the head of his cock brushed against the back of her throat. As Oliver rode out the last of his orgasm, Felicity slowed her pace, but she still seemed intent on sucking him dry. 

When both of them could breathe normally, Felicity lifted herself off of Oliver and collapsed next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Without thinking, Oliver brushed a kiss against her temple and wrapped his arms around her. Felicity stiffened slightly, but when Oliver moved to disentangle himself from her, she laid an arm across his torso. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just not used to us being this close," she said somewhat hoarsely. 

Though he regretted it immediately, Oliver ran his fingertips down the side of Felicity's right breast. "I _could_ get used to it, though," he teased.

Felicity laughed and traced her fingers along the ridges of his abs. "I could, too, but we're only doing this once."

Oliver could hear traces of uncertainty in her voice, but he chose not to argue. "Then we'd better make the most of it," he said, cupping her right breast in his hand.

Felicity inhaled sharply and arched her back. Oliver smiled. He was better with actions than words. Now he planned to _show_ Felicity that neither of them would be happy with a one-night stand.


	5. Chapter 5

**One Week Later**

Starling City USCIS Field Office

 >>>>>>>

Determined to coax a word from the jumble of letters at the bottom of her screen, Felicity furrowed her brow. She was certain that Words with Friends gave progressively worse letters to players who began winning. In the midst of trying every conceivable combination of the letters U, C, W, I, Z, Y, and U, Felicity felt something brush against her arm. She jumped and looked to her right. 

Smiling apologetically, Oliver moved his left arm closer to his torso. "I'm sorry." He dropped his gaze to the ground.

She bristled with irritation. "It's fine."

When she returned her attention to her phone, she found that she couldn't concentrate on the game. Her head swam with memories of Oliver's fingers on her hips, his mouth on her collarbone, his cock splitting her apart. 

A week ago, she had appeared in Oliver's doorway wearing almost nothing. Under his skilled tongue, she'd come unmoored...a few times. Then, he'd ravished her. He'd fucked her like he'd never touch a woman again, and she had reciprocated enthusiastically. Marked by hard, urgent kisses and frenzied touches, the sex had been rough and primal. 

She shivered, thinking of the exquisite way his cock had brushed against her g-spot when he'd bent her over and pounded her from behind. Honestly, it was the best sex she’d ever had, even if they hadn’t slowed down to enjoy it. 

But these memories were tainted by what had happened the next morning. She’d woken up in her bed, nestled in Oliver’s arms. For a moment, she’d enjoyed it. She'd pretended that it was normal. She'd thought about how much she wished it were.  However, she’d quickly realized that this would destroy her “fuck the feelings away” strategy. As she had gingerly lifted Oliver’s arm from her stomach, he had stirred. When she had glanced up, he'd been gazing down at her. His arms had tightened around her, and he had brushed a feather-light kiss against her scalp. 

Even now, goosebumps pricked her skin when she remembered the intensity of his touch.

After he’d kissed her, though, he’d dropped his lips to her ear and whispered, “I love you.”

She’d frozen, sure that she’d misheard him. 

However, he’d continued speaking softly, bathing the shell of her ear with warm air. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I want _you_. I want _this_.”

At that, she’d shot out of his arms and dropped her feet to the floor with more grace than she’d ever demonstrated. Feeling sick, she’d stood and wheeled to face him. “I think you’re forgetting that our marriage is based on a lie,” she'd said. “We’re committing a felony.”

His brow had creased, and he’d opened his mouth to reply, but Felicity had cut him off. “Would you have asked me to marry you if I hadn’t been facing deportation?”

Oliver had shaken his head before quickly adding, “But the night you got that email, I had actually been planning to--”

Felicity had begun moving toward the door. “This isn't fair to either of us," she'd interjected. "I never should have agreed to marry you,” she’d said softly before exiting the room.

Since that morning, they’d barely spoken. They’d communicated efficiently as members of Team Arrow, but they’d mostly stayed away from each other outside of the Foundry. If she was being honest, Felicity knew that her outburst had been unfair. Oliver didn’t know how she felt about him, so he couldn’t have known that his words had caused hope to flare and collapse simultaneously in her chest. He couldn’t love her the way she loved him. Men like Oliver Queen did not fall in love with women like Felicity Smoak. She blamed the excess oxytocin created by their mind-blowing sex. That was why he'd admitted he loved her.

She shook her head almost imperceptibly, as if she could physically force these thoughts away. 

If they could just get through this interview, hopefully, she'd have her green card in a few months. It'd be a conditional one, but after they got through the two-year period, she'd be able to petition for permanent resident status. 

Her heart clenched at the thought of living with Oliver for another two years. She had expected sleeping with him to be cathartic. She'd stupidly thought that acting on her feelings would allow her to compartmentalize them. But instead of locking away the part of her brain that was in love with Oliver, she found that she could think of nothing else. 

The door next to Felicity swung open suddenly, and she started. 

In the doorway, a bald middle-aged man squinted at the clipboard in his hands. "Mr. and Mrs. Queen?" His tone held an air of impatience.

Biting her tongue, Felicity stood and turned toward the USCIS officer. She saw that his ID badge read "Richard DeAngelo." Oliver rose and followed Felicity.

The man led them down a harshly lit hallway with institutional-looking gray carpet. He stopped in front of an open door and gestured inside. "Mrs. Queen, please take a seat in here. Officer McConnell will be with you shortly."

Felicity nodded, resisting the urge to correct his use of Oliver's last name.

"And, Mr. Queen, you'll be right over here," he said, gesturing toward the next room down.

As Oliver turned toward the open door, he shot Felicity a reassuring smile.

Without meaning to, she smiled back at him, feeling some of the tension ebb from her body. _Damnit,_ she thought.

After Felicity entered the room and sat down, Officer DeAngelo closed the door with a firm click. She listened as footsteps entered the room next door. 

A moment later, she heard a male voice say, "Start by stating your full name, please."

Felicity whipped around, but she saw no one else in the room. The voice sounded as if it were emanating from someone sitting next to her.

A familiar voice said, "Oliver Jonas Queen."

Still perplexed, Felicity scanned the room. When she looked up, she saw a large metal grate on the wall. Her jaw dropped. She knew it was wrong, but she froze, intent on hearing every word.

"How did you meet your wife?" DeAngelo asked.

"She worked for Queen Consolidated when I returned to Starling City."

"What was your first impression of her?"

Oliver chuckled quietly. "She was chewing on a red pen and working on something I didn't understand. It didn't take me long to figure out that she's a thousand times smarter than me." He paused. "I thought her glasses were adorable," he added.

A flicker of hope bloomed in her chest. She knew Oliver was probably just trying to sell their story, but his words still prompted a swooping sensation in her stomach. 

She heard the distinct scratching of a pen against paper. Then, DeAngelo asked, "Did Mrs. Queen have any pets as a child?"

"It's still 'Smoak,' actually, and no. She's allergic."

"Did she play any sports in high school?"

"She was a state Mathletics champion three times, and she was in archery club."

At this, Felicity felt her lips curve upward. Yes, she had joined archery club as a freshman, but she'd been so uncoordinated that she'd quit after a semester. The irony was not lost on her.

"How long was your engagement?" DeAngelo asked briskly.

"A few days," Oliver replied.

"Any particular reason why it was so short?" DeAngelo's tone held a hint of suspicion.

After a short pause, Oliver said, "I'd already waited too long to tell her I love her, and I didn't want to waste any more time." 

Felicity's heart clenched.

"I should have told her that I loved her the day after Slade Wilson attacked the city," he added.

Certain that she had misheard, Felicity frowned. He had told her he loved her the _night_ of Slade's siege. It had been part of his plan. What was he talking about? 

"Why then?" DeAngelo asked in a disinterested voice.

"The night of the attack, we encountered some of his mercenaries, and we barely escaped. I could have lost her. The next day, instead of telling her I loved her, I made her believe that I didn't."

Felicity gripped the arms of her chair. Visions of Oliver smiling at her on Lian Yu swam in her head. He'd been so nonchalant during their conversation on the beach that Felicity had never stopped to consider that his admission the night before had been truthful. 

However, his answer deviated from the prepared responses they'd developed last week. There was no reason for him to abandon their carefully crafted story...unless he was telling the truth.

However, DeAngelo ignored this bombshell and continued his inquest. "Where did you get married?"

"City Hall."

"Who attended?"

"John Diggle and Lyla Michaels."

"No family?" DeAngelo asked.

"No," Oliver said sharply.

Silence filtered through the grate.

"My records indicate that you have a sister, Mr. Queen. Why didn't she attend?"

"She's traveling abroad," Oliver said icily.

"And Mrs. Queen's family?"

"It's _Smoak_ ," he said in a dangerous tone. "And her parents are deceased. I'm her family."

Sounding distracted, DeAngelo simply said, "Right."

As she listened to DeAngelo's pen scratching against paper, Felicity felt her eyes well up. Oliver _was_ her family. And she was his. He had Thea, of course, but she was still furious with him, and she'd been adamant about never returning to Starling City.

"Mr. Queen, what is your wife's greatest strength?"

Felicity held her breath. That one hadn't been on any of the lists of questions they'd found online.

Oliver laughed.

"It's a long list, but I'll try to keep it succinct."

Felicity's cheeks burned.

"She's stubborn, but that mostly manifests itself through her determination. I've never met anyone who works harder to achieve their goals or help other people."

A small ember glowed in her chest. 

"She's so brilliant, but she's never condescending. She's a big fan of superheroes--especially the Arrow--so I tell her that her superpower is her brain."

Felicity rolled her eyes at this shameless display of hubris, but she couldn't stop her lips from curving upward.

"All right. And her greatest weakness?" DeAngelo replied drily.

"Probably also her stubbornness. She never asks for help. She's so fiercely independent, and I love that about her, but I wish she'd let people help her once in a while."

The ember in Felicity's chest flared to life.

"Who does most of the cooking?"

"I do," Oliver replied.

Felicity waited for him to elaborate on her culinary ineptitude, but he didn't.

"Do you watch any TV shows together?"

"We've been watching The X-Files," Oliver said. "She'd never seen it." After a moment, he added, "And Degrassi: The Next Generation."

A grin stretched across Felicity's face. It had been her favorite show in high school, and Oliver had agreed to rewatch all of it with her. He'd never admit it, but he shipped Emma and Sean as hard as she did. 

"Who proposed to whom?" DeAngelo asked.

"I proposed," Oliver said.

"Mr. Queen, when did you realize that you loved Ms. Smoak?"

Felicity froze. They hadn't prepared for this question either.

"About a year ago, Felicity and I had to travel to Russia on business for Queen Consolidated. When we were there, I made a mistake. After we got home, I said something to Felicity that made that mistake worse." He paused. "When I saw the look on her face, I realized that I'd do anything to make her feel better. That's when I knew I loved her."

Stunned, Felicity struggled to process what Oliver had just said. He'd known he loved her since he'd slept with Isabel? He'd loved her since he'd told her that he couldn't be with anyone he cared about?

"Thank you," DeAngelo said briskly. "Finally, Mr. Queen, how many times a week--"

But Felicity didn't hear the rest of the question. The door behind her swung open, and a deep voice said, "Mrs. Queen?"

**> >>>>>>**

Before Oliver could answer the question, he heard a voice say, "Mrs. Queen?" Scanning the room with his eyes, Oliver confirmed that he and DeAngelo were alone. 

Suddenly, he noticed the grate on the wall. Felicity must have heard every word he'd said. He clenched his jaw and cursed inwardly. He should have noticed it sooner. 

"Mr. Queen? How many times a week are you and your wife intimate?"

Oliver barely suppressed a grimace. "Isn't that kind of private?"

DeAngelo stared at him. "It helps us to gauge the validity of your marriage."

"At least three," Oliver ground out between clenched teeth. That sounded like an average number, right? 

With a terse nod, DeAngelo stood and started toward the door. "Thank you for your cooperation. Please wait here a moment."

Oliver inclined his head. Through the grate, he heard Felicity answering many of the same questions DeAngelo had just asked him. 

"What was your first impression of your husband?" The officer asked.

"His smile stretched to his eyes. He seemed so kind," Felicity replied. "And a little mischievous."

Oliver's heart leapt.

"And I wanted to jump his bones," she added. 

There was a pregnant pause. Oliver bit his lip to try to swallow the laugh bubbling in his throat. 

"I just meant that I could see immediately why he was known as a playboy," she said quickly. 

"I see," the officer said in a brisk tone. "Did your husband play any sports in high school?"

"He probably could have lettered in pick-up lines and soulful stares," she quipped.

Oliver snorted quietly. 

Silence filtered through the grate.

Sounding nervous, Felicity added hurriedly, "He was captain of the rugby team and a state wrestling champion."

"How long was your engagement, Mrs. Queen?"

Wincing, Oliver braced for impact.

But Felicity merely said, "It's still 'Smoak.' I'm keeping my maiden name. And we were only engaged for a few days."

The officer cleared his throat. "I see." The disapproval was evident in his tone. However, he moved on without comment.

"What is your husband's greatest strength, Ms. Smoak?"

Felicity laughed. "Well, he has exceptional physical strength," she began. "But that's not what you're asking," she added hurriedly. 

"Oliver is incredibly brave and selfless. He never hesitates to help others--regardless of what it costs him."

"And his greatest weakness?" The officer asked.

"He's really protective of the people he loves. Most of the time, that's a good thing, but he sometimes withholds information in an effort to 'protect' loved ones. He also has this habit of making unilateral decisions for the same reason." 

Oliver grimaced.

"And when did you realize you loved your husband?" The officer asked.

"We went on a business trip to Russia last year, and when we were there, he slept with a woman who..." Felicity trailed off.

After a moment, she continued, "She's a horrible person. He deserved better. When I saw her leaving his hotel room, it was a gut punch. That's when I knew."

"Thank you," the officer said. "Finally, Ms. Smoak, where do you see yourself in five years?"

Before Felicity responded, though, the door behind Oliver opened and DeAngelo entered the room. 

"Mr. Queen, I just need your signature on this form, and then you're free to wait for your wife in the waiting room," DeAngelo said, sliding a sheet of paper onto the table in front of Oliver. 

Irritated that he'd missed Felicity's response to a very important question, Oliver nodded and scribbled his name at the bottom of the page. 

As he made his way to the waiting room, Oliver tried to remember everything he'd said in his interview. If Felicity had been listening the whole time, he'd have a lot to explain. 

**> >>>>>>**

In no hurry to reach the waiting room, Felicity walked down the hallway at a leisurely pace. When she saw Oliver, everything would be different. She was sure he'd heard at least part of her interview, and she was kicking herself for being so candid. But McConnell had asked her questions that she and Oliver hadn't rehearsed, and everyone knows she babbles when she's nervous.

She groaned softly when she saw that she was approaching the waiting room door. There'd be no ignoring the fact that their interview responses had opened Pandora's box. 

When she pushed the door open, she saw Oliver standing by the window. His gaze was fixed on the heavy gray clouds moving rapidly across the sky. 

Oliver heard her approach and turned to face her. He looked nervous. She could relate. 

However, he shot her a small smile and forged ahead. "How'd it go?"

Before she'd consciously decided to speak, she found herself saying, "We need to talk."

What the hell was she doing? She could have just as easily pretended that she hadn't heard anything. It was too late now.

Oliver's nervousness quickly morphed into concern. But he nodded. "Let's go home."

Felicity shook her head. "Can we talk in the car? I need to say a few things while they're fresh in my mind."

With a nod, Oliver moved to the door and pushed it open, holding it for Felicity.

Flashing him a quick smile, she exited the waiting room before she could come to her senses. Once in the hallway, she saw that the doorway to the stairs was closer than the elevator. It was only three or four flights to the parking garage, and she had to be alone with him _now_. She had to ask him about what he'd said. 

She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the doorway.

"The elevator is over there," Oliver said, but he allowed Felicity to steer him toward the black metal door.

In under a minute, they had paused on the landing at the top of the stairs. 

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Felicity pinned her gaze on Oliver. "Why did you say that you should have told me you loved me the day _after_ Slade's attack? Why did you say that you've known you've loved me since we got back from Russia?"

Oliver's expression was enigmatic. "I didn't know you were listening. That's a serious design flaw on their part. Interviewees shouldn't be able to hear each other."

Feeling a surge of affection mixed with irritation, Felicity frowned. "Stop deflecting. Besides, I'm way better at distraction via babbling."

Lips curving upward, Oliver nodded. "Fair enough."

"Oliver, please tell me the truth," Felicity said softly.

After a moment of charged silence, Oliver met Felicity's eyes. "I said those things because they're true," he finally said.

Though she had thought--okay, desperately hoped--that he might say this, Felicity felt unprepared to respond. Arranging words into a coherent sentence was too difficult. She settled for asking an obvious question. "What does that mean?"

Looking resolute, Oliver lifted his chin incrementally. "I'm in love with you."

Felicity forgot how to breathe, but she felt her feet moving of their own volition. Suddenly, she was standing inches away from Oliver.

He was gazing at her with an expression that was part vulnerable and part hopeful. 

She didn't know how, but Felicity managed to reply in a whisper. "I'm in love with you, too."

Somehow her hands had ended up in his, and she found herself grinning up at him.

With a smile, Oliver dipped his head and cupped Felicity's chin in his hands. 

Felicity wrapped her arms around Oliver's waist.

Seconds later, Oliver's lips were on hers. Felicity molded her body against him, feeling the hard planes of his chest on her torso. When Oliver ran his hands down her spine, settling them on her ass, Felicity felt a surge of heat between her thighs. She dropped a hand to his groin, caressing his rapidly swelling cock.

Oliver broke their kiss and whispered hoarsely, "If we don't leave right now, I might take you against this wall." He gently backed her toward the wall behind her. 

In a lust-roughened voice that she barely recognized, Felicity replied, "Good."

With a low chuckle, Oliver brushed a kiss against her neck. "We've already done the rough, fast sex thing." 

He bit her skin gently, and Felicity shuddered.

"This time, I'd very much like to take my time exploring every square inch of your body."

Felicity sighed softly. "Take me home," she whispered.

A moment later, Oliver had seized her hand and was leading her down the stairs toward the parking garage, doing his best to conceal the considerable bulge straining against his pants. Feeling almost dizzy with arousal, Felicity followed him as quickly as her heels would allow.


	6. Chapter 6

**> >>>>>>**

Oliver tried to focus on exiting the labyrinthine parking garage, but it was very difficult with Felicity's hand on his thigh. It became increasingly harder to concentrate as she moved her hand inward. However, when Oliver hit a speed bump a little too fast, Felicity withdrew her hand, murmuring an apology. 

Smiling, Oliver glanced over at her and said, "I'm not complaining."

Felicity laughed. "You'll care if you scratch your baby."

Oliver rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "This car is not my baby."

"But it's a '1950 Aston Martin DB2--one of only 410 built,'" she recited in a mock-serious voice.

"I do not sound like that," he protested.

Felicity shot him a long-suffering look.

"Okay, fine," he laughed. 

She was right, of course. He'd been able to hold onto the car when his family's other assets had been seized, so he was fairly attached to it. His attorney had said that, because the Aston Martin had been left to Oliver by his maternal grandfather, the car had been protected by some sort of inheritance tax law. It was his only real remnant of his former life--other than some jewelry that had belonged to his mother. He didn't mind, though. He liked himself better without the safety net provided by his family's money. And being with Felicity made him happier than money ever had.

Oliver exited the parking garage and turned onto the street. He'd already mapped out the quickest route home, but, judging by Felicity's wandering fingers, the drive would still take an eternity.

As they sped across town, Felicity traced patterns on his inner thigh. Eventually, she started running her fingertips over his throbbing cock. His pants tightened uncomfortably.

"Felicity," he ground out between gritted teeth.

"I thought you weren't complaining," she teased, sliding her hand away.

Oliver groaned in frustration. "I want you so badly," he murmured.

They approached a red light, and Oliver cursed as he slowed.

Before he could stop himself, he'd dropped his right hand between Felicity's legs. With a wolfish grin, he lifted her skirt and ran his fingers up her thigh. She shivered.

Inching his fingers upward, he felt soft curls graze his skin. His cock twitched painfully, and he shifted his hand to her blazing center. 

As he'd guessed, she wasn't wearing underwear. He dipped one finger into her folds and found that she was slick with arousal.

Tracing a lazy pathway between her entrance and her clit, he growled, "You're so wet."

Felicity exhaled sharply and met Oliver's gaze. "For you," she said slowly and deliberately.

In response, Oliver pushed his middle finger inside Felicity's tight entrance.

"Oh, my God," she squeaked.

Oliver grinned.

Suddenly, horns blared behind them. When Oliver glanced up, he saw that the light had changed. He reluctantly withdrew his hand from between Felicity's thighs and accelerated, sucking her arousal from his finger.

**> >>>>>>**

**10 Minutes Later**

Felicity had barely closed the apartment door behind her before she found herself pressed against the wall. Oliver kissed her deeply, but he wasn't radiating urgency like he had last week. Rather, he seemed to be drinking her in. She could feel his lips curving upward against her own. 

Breaking the kiss reluctantly, she whispered, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you how I felt sooner...and I'm sorry I froze you out last week."

Oliver paused, brushing his lips against the base of her neck. "I should have told you sooner. We wasted so much time."

He lifted his head and stared intently into Felicity's eyes. "I shouldn't have let you think that I didn't love you. I meant what I said the night Slade attacked the city," he said, searching her face. "I loved you even before I realized it."

Warmth and joy and contentment surged through Felicity's body. "I love you," she whispered.

She wrapped her arms around Oliver's neck. Before she knew it, he had slipped his hands down to her ass and lifted her into his arms. She snaked her legs around his back.

As Oliver carried Felicity to her bedroom, he brushed tiny kisses over every part of her face, neck, and collarbone. 

Stopping in front of the bed, he placed Felicity's feet on the floor. He gently turned her around and placed a kiss between her shoulder blades. 

Felicity exhaled softly and arched her back.

Tugging the zipper of Felicity's dress downward, Oliver pushed the fabric off her shoulders. 

Felicity kicked off her shoes unsteadily and stepped out of her dress, turning to face Oliver. For a moment, she regretted forgoing underwear, but when she saw Oliver's gaze on the thatch of curls between her legs, she grinned. Eyes locked on Oliver's, she unhooked her bra and let it fall to the ground.

One minute, Oliver was raking his gaze over Felicity's naked body. The next, he was kissing her, guiding her toward the bed, and placing her gently in the center of the mattress.

At some point, Oliver had discarded his shirt and pants, but Felicity couldn't remember when. She  was laser-focused on the way he was currently propping himself above her in the world's sexiest push-up. 

Oliver gently nudged Felicity's legs apart and planted his knees between her thighs. 

She shivered at the close proximity of his cock to her core. It didn't matter that he was still wearing underwear. His impressive length strained against the soft fabric. 

When Felicity noticed a small damp spot forming on Oliver's boxer briefs, heat pooled in her abdomen. She reached up and tugged Oliver's underwear down his thighs. 

He chuckled and deftly maneuvered the boxer briefs the rest of the way off his body. As Oliver readjusted, the head of his cock brushed against Felicity's slit, and she moaned.

Grinning, Oliver dropped his mouth to Felicity's neck and nipped gently, quickly placing a kiss over the tender spot.

"Too hard?" he murmured into her neck.

"No," Felicity whispered.

Oliver moved his lips down her neck, across her collarbone, and finally stopped above her breasts. 

He placed a kiss above the swell of her right breast and took her nipple in his mouth. He coaxed it into a perfect peak. He bit gently before turning his attention to her other breast. Seeing that Felicity's left nipple had already stiffened, Oliver laved it with his tongue.

Felicity arched her back and whimpered. 

Oliver smiled and released her nipple before covering the side of her breast in featherlight kisses. Leaving a trail of kisses across her belly, he moved downward. When he reached her hips, he paused and laid down on his stomach, head directly above her core.

Dropping his hands to her thighs, he placed a light kiss against her right hip bone. Felicity bit her lip. Oliver's mouth was achingly close to her core. Every time he exhaled, his breath bathed her throbbing folds with warm air. She bucked her hips upward, and he chuckled before brushing a kiss against her left hip bone.

In a voice she barely recognized, Felicity begged Oliver to touch her. 

In response, he dragged his fingers up the insides of her thighs, stopping inches from her sex.

"Oliver," she growled. 

He lazily dipped his index finger inside her tight pussy, and she inhaled sharply. 

Just as quickly, he withdrew it, licking it clean. 

Before Felicity could complain, Oliver had dipped his tongue into her entrance. He flattened his tongue against her slit and licked slowly and deliberately upward. He paused to suck on her folds, and Felicity moaned. 

She shouldn't have been surprised to find out that Oliver had such a skilled mouth, but she still hardly dared to believe that her gorgeous ex-boss had his head buried between her thighs. She could barely believe that this man was her husband--that he was in love with her.

Oliver resumed his upward trajectory, pressing his tongue against her center with exquisite pressure. Without warning, he began sucking on her clit and pushed one finger slowly into her pussy.

She squirmed. "More, Oliver, please," she whispered hoarsely.

"Of course," he murmured, barely lifting his mouth from her sex.

He obliged by slowly pushing two more fingers into her slick heat.

His thick fingers filled her completely, and he stopped sucking on her clit in favor of drawing slow, steady circles with his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The first hint of an orgasm shimmered at the edges of Felicity's vision, and she moaned Oliver's name. He maintained his measured pace.

Suddenly, he curled all three fingers upward, brushing Felicity's g-spot. He straightened his fingers slowly and repeated the movement, gradually increasing his speed. 

Felicity's orgasm lapped against her gently before slamming into her with the force of a tidal wave. 

She felt her walls clenching around Oliver's hand, and he continued extending and contracting the fingers he'd buried in her pussy. He licked her clit, lapping up her juices eagerly as she bore down on his hand. 

Gradually, as the waves of pleasure began to ebb, Felicity's grip on the sheets loosened and her toes uncurled. She lifted her head from the pillow and looked down to see Oliver licking his fingers clean, his mouth still inches from her pussy.

He smiled wolfishly before placing a chaste kiss on the inside of her thigh. 

Felicity shivered and ran her fingers through his hair. "I need your cock," she whispered in a rough voice.

Without hesitation, Oliver lifted himself to his knees and planted his arms on either side of Felicity's shoulders.

**> >>>>>>**

Oliver grasped his cock in his right hand and rubbed the glistening head against Felicity's folds. She gasped quietly, and he grinned.

"Please," she whispered.

In that moment, Oliver knew he'd never deny Felicity anything ever again. His singular directive had crystallized: to make her as happy as she makes him. He didn't think he could come close, but he'd try.

Without hesitating, he pushed the tip of his cock into her tight, wet entrance. He felt her shudder, and the way she thrusted her hips upward to meet him sent a wave of heat coursing throughout his body. 

He split her pussy apart, impaling her inch by painstaking inch. Felicity wrapped her legs around his waist. Finally, Oliver buried himself to the hilt, and Felicity emitted a guttural-sounding moan that sent yet more blood rushing to his dick.

In an achingly slow, fluid movement, he pulled out of Felicity's exquisitely tight cunt. She groaned in protest, but before she could verbalize her displeasure, Oliver had pushed the ridge of his cock past her pussy lips and submerged himself in her wet heat again. 

He did this repeatedly, gradually building speed. After each thrust, he hesitated, giving her walls time to clench around him. She grew steadily tighter, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer.

Felicity's breathing became more erratic, and Oliver used the pad of his thumb to trace gentle circles against her clit. 

She moaned and swore, and Oliver felt her walls clamp down hard on his cock. He teetered toward the edge. 

Suddenly, Felicity arched her back and screamed Oliver's name. She lifted her head and met his gaze before she fell apart. He drove into her in deep, slow thrusts, his eyes never leaving hers. Seconds later, Oliver's orgasm tore through his body, and he emptied himself into Felicity, coating her walls in his cum. 

The intensity of their shared orgasms was heightened by their eye contact. As they both shuddered through the aftershocks, Oliver leaned down and kissed Felicity's forehead. After a final thrust, he pulled out and rocked back on his knees.

"I love you," he said softly.

She grinned, her face flushed. "I love you. Come cuddle."

Oliver laughed, an idea forming in his head. "One second. I need to get something."

He rolled off the bed and walked toward the dresser.

When Felicity saw that he was heading for his underwear drawer, she chuckled. 

"Oliver, you don't need to wear anything special to seduce me. In fact, you don't have to wear anything at all." She paused, a thoughtful look spreading across her face. "However, I wouldn't object to fucking the Green Arrow," she amended.

The idea was more of a turn-on than Oliver cared to admit, but he made a mental note for later. Clearing his throat, he rolled his eyes at her, but he couldn't suppress his smile. "I'm not getting something for _me_ to wear," he replied. 

Felicity arched her eyebrow but said nothing.

Oliver grinned and retrieved a small box from beneath the pair of Batman boxers Felicity had bought him as a joke. 

Climbing back into bed, he sat facing Felicity. "Nothing about our relationship has been conventional," he began.

Felicity laughed. He realized it was his favorite sound. 

"That's an understatement," she said, taking his right hand and linking their fingers together. "What's in your left hand?"

He smiled indulgently at her. "I'll show you in a minute."

She nodded, still trying to crane her head to see his left hand.

"I love you so much," he said, suddenly overcome with emotion. "You are all I will ever need. Will you marry me?"

Felicity grinned. "I believe I already did."

Oliver shook his head. "For real this time," he said, drawing a velvet ring box from behind his back.

Seeing that Felicity was speechless, he continued. "I never gave you an engagement ring. We never celebrated with our friends. I want this for real. I want you to be my wife."

Tears had begun pooling in Felicity's eyes, but she was still smiling. 

Oliver removed the ring from the box and held it out to Felicity, waiting for her to extend her left hand. 

"Oliver," she breathed. "You can't afford that," she said, marveling at the three-carat princess cut diamond in a platinum band.

He chuckled. "I know. It was my mother's engagement ring. She wanted me to give it to the woman I decided to spend the rest of my life with."

A stray tear slipped down Felicity's cheek, and Oliver wiped it away with his right thumb. He gazed at her, feeling indescribable love and gratitude. His right hand hovered above her left hand. 

"Will you spend the rest of your life with me?" he asked, searching her face.

Felicity nodded, blinking through her tears. She held out her hand, and Oliver slid the band onto her ring finger. 

"I love you," she said, pulling him into a searing kiss. 

When she pulled away, she grinned at him. "Thanks for being willing to commit marriage fraud for me."

Oliver laughed and shook his head. "It was always real to me."

**> >>>>>>**

**The End**


End file.
